The Evolution of Delia Ketchum, Aide
by Tsumi-Amethyst
Summary: Delia Ketchum is bored, frustrated and unhappy. She asks Professor Oak for a job, who, in desperate need of assistance, hires her immediately. As Delia becomes more of an asset, her relationship with the Professor develops... Eldershipping, Palletshipping


Warnings: Eldershipping (Delia x Professor Oak), and a very high chance of future Palletshipping (Ash/Gary). In short: here be het and yaoi. You have been warned.  
>Author's notes: I've had this idea for a while now, despite only having recently gotten back into the fandom (thanks to the awesomeness of HeartGold!). I really adore this couple, and think they're incredibly cute. I just hope I do them justice, and that the OOC-ness is either not too noticeable, or not too unbearable! Either way, leave me a review and I can try to fix it. Yes, I really do read them, and yes, I really do take on board what they say. Anyway. I hope you all enjoy what little there is so far!<p>

Delia sighed, head resting on her hand as she sat at the kitchen table. It was eleven thirty, and she was, to put it bluntly, bored as hell.

Today was no special day. 'Just like every day,' she thought to herself dully, with a hint of resentment. She glared at the package, delivered by Ash's Staraptor (who had promptly flown off as soon as he'd arrived) earlier that morning. Delia knew what was inside. And she resented it wholly.

Her son had been sending her packets of money for years, undoubtedly earned from battling and winning in matches against other trainers. It had, undeniably, been a massive help to the financially short Delia. But she couldn't help feeling frustrated. With Ash. With herself. 'No,' Delia thought to herself sadly, as she gazed out of the kitchen window that looked out onto her well-kept garden, surrounded by a white picket fence, 'that won't do.' Delia would _not_ be angry at Ash. This was absolutely not his fault. Why would it be? Why would Delia's boredom and frustration be her son's fault? Delia was ashamed with herself. 'If only Ash could hear me now,' she thought to herself, 'he would be ashamed, too.' She imagined his crest-fallen face if he could hear her thoughts, and shuddered at the slight drop of her stomach.

Most people thought Delia a dippy, unintelligent single mother. Appearances were deceiving, and the old moral of never judging a book by its cover was personified in Delia Ketchum. She was not merely satisfied by sitting at home and cleaning every day. She wanted to get out there and _do _things, in the same way her ex husband and son had gone out and _done_ things, and continued to _do_ things. She wanted to be stimulated mentally.

Often Delia thought that she was just being ungrateful, that many people would _kill_ to have a laid-back lifestyle like hers. She didn't work, but she lived off the money brought in by her son, which he dutifully sent her every month. He visited as often as he could, but being such a notorious figure, he was often away from home. If it could even be called his home anymore – Ash was a grown man now, at eighteen years of age. If he wasn't sleeping on the forest floor under the stars, or in a hotel, then he was sleeping in one of Gary Oak's many houses, in either Johto or Kanto. Sure, if Ash happened to stay in Kanto, then he would more often than not drop by for a quick chat, before darting off to his next conference, or battle, or adventure. So, more often than not, Ash stayed in other people's houses more than his mother's. Delia doubted it would be long before he announced he had officially moved in with Gary, but that was beside the point.

Delia stood up and allowed Mimey to tuck in her chair underneath the table. She went upstairs and into the bathroom, peering at her face in the mirror. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, she could see small lines appearing at the corners of her mouth and eyes, even when she wasn't smiling.

This wouldn't do. Delia frowned – deepening the appearance of her tiny, barely noticeable wrinkles – and began to wash her face, as if the water would wash away the look of worry, her unsettled stomach, still writhing with guilt, her wrinkles...

Of course, it didn't work. Delia frowned even deeper. She needed to take action, now, before she became incapable of doing so. She had been dissatisfied for so long. Her only son was grown up; she didn't have a boyfriend, and was utterly bored every day of her life. If she'd read the books in her house once, she'd read them a thousand times. And there were only so many times she could abide cleaning the house from top to bottom before that became wearisome and dissatisfying, too.

Then, she had an idea, so clear and _obvious, _that Delia kicked herself for having not thought of it sooner. But the prospect of it becoming a reality, of escaping from this torturous regime she had fallen into, was so powerful it filled her eyes with tears of pure joy. Trying to ignore the nagging thought of how much time she had wasted in her short-sightedness, she strode across the hall to her bedroom to find some suitable clothes. She needed to make a good impression. She had always told her son that first impressions were everything, and keeping that in mind, she proceeded to pick out an outfit.

Professor Oak sighed wearily, running his hand through his – surprisingly thick - grey hair. "I know you're there," he said warningly to the approaching blob in the corner. Muk did as best a whimper he could, and sidled back into the other room. Professor Oak sighed, taking off his reading glasses and rubbing the area of his nose where they pressed into his skin. He was getting too used to Muk's tricks, to all of this. His work had become almost mechanical, as if his new discoveries were not surprising anymore. It was as if he had lost his memories, and had now regained them, and all of his experiments were no longer exciting because he had remembered the answers, remembered that he was merely repeating past experiments and was wasting his time. It was exhausting, and, frankly, incredibly annoying.

Of course, this was ridiculous. The findings Professor Oak encountered were _always_ fascinating, and always new. That's why even now he remained _the_ expert in Pokémon, despite the... wrongness of his early press releases. He flushed just remembering it, recalling how he had declared there to only be one-hundred-and-fifty Pokémon in the world, only to be proven wrong literally just months later...

A knock on the door broke Professor Oak from his embarrassed reflections. He scanned the area again to make sure no Pokémon would escape if presented with the chance to do so – and he opened the door.

It was Delia Ketchum. Professor Oak blinked in surprise. Delia was wearing smart, black suit-trousers, and a pastel pink button-up shirt. She wore just a little make-up, and wore her hair just slightly lower than usual in its bobble. She looked incredibly smart. She gave the Professor a wide smile – the only thing that was usual and expected of Delia.

"Good afternoon, Professor!" Delia chirped happily, trying to ignore Samuel's perplexed look. "May I come in?" She needed to be direct, concise. 'You're doing great so far,' she reassured herself, though she hadn't failed to notice the Professor's bemused look as he answered the door and saw her, of all people standing there.

"U-Um..." Professor Oak gave another long glance around the room, before slowly, as if reluctantly saying, "... Yes, Delia, come on in."

"Thank you!" Delia said, in that same happy tone. She walked briskly past Professor Oak, and then immediately stopped dead, staring around the room.

It had been a while since she had been inside the lab, and she had distinctly remembered it being much tidier than its current state. Papers spilled from the desk in the corner to the floor. Dust covered the TV in the opposite corner of the spacious living room, the remote itself covered in a purple, sticky-looking substance that decidedly belonged to – Delia realised, with a guilty pang – her son's Muk. The small wastepaper bin beside Samuel's desk was overflowing with crumpled up paper. It was incredibly cliché, but Delia immediately knew that Professor Oak needed her help. 'Great,' she thought to herself, with a wide smile. This would make her request all the more justifiable.

"Please, take a seat," Professor Oak called from the doorway, closing the door slowly and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassedly. He knew that his lab/home was a mess – hence his earlier reluctance to allow Delia inside. "If I had known you were coming, Delia..." He began, but was cut off by Delia.

"Nonsense!" She reassured him, though her eyes could not help but stare at the mess in the room. It was so unlike her own house, where everything was just so... Not even the occasional mishap of Mimey was enough to have anything in her house look out of place. It was as if she had stepped into a parallel universe and was seeing what her house would be like, were she the opposite of how she was, and always had been.

"Well... Please, have a seat!" Professor Oak offered, hurrying over and taking the mountain of papers, magazines and graphs from the couch and turning, turning, trying to find a free surface to place them on, before simply placing them on the floor at their feet. Delia visibly and audibly winced as she now saw even less of the carpet beneath them, but said nothing and graciously accepted the offering of a chair.

She was probably imagining the sensation of stickiness on the seat, anyway.

"So, what can I do for you, Delia?" Professor Oak asked, finally taking a seat on the large couch beside Mrs Ketchum. In recent years, Delia noticed, finally being close enough to realise, Professor Oak had aged little. Perhaps it was because he had had grey hair since Ash had been very small, or because she was used to the small wrinkles in the corners of _his_ eyes, but she couldn't remember him ever looking any differently.

"Well..." Delia said slowly, losing her nerve a little. Her smile dropped a little, and Professor Oak leaned forward, as if something terrible had happened and he was about to lay a consoling hand on her shoulder. Instead, he just waited, poised to do so if necessary. "It's nothing bad," Delia said bluntly, as if realising what was happening. Professor Oak blinked again and relaxed a little in his seat. He still kept his back very, very straight however, and Delia wondered how he managed it. Slumping back was all too inviting for her, but no. She had to make the right impression to save herself from this rut she had gotten herself into.

"However... I _do_ need somewhat of a favour from you, Professor," She continued, hoping that this sounded diplomatic and not at all condescending.

"I always have time for you, Delia," The Professor said with a smile, deepening the wrinkles on his face just enough to – somehow – reassure Delia into carrying on, her nerves having nearly got the better of her. She felt like she was being incredibly cheeky, something she had tried to stamp out of her son from an early age, in case others thought he was just plain rude. And she would _not_ have her son, under any circumstances, being rude to anyone. 'Except for Team Rocket,' she added as an afterthought, nodding slightly as she steeled herself.

"I am bored, Professor," She admitted, and with her confession came a great feeling of relief. It was liberating, almost, to admit to another human being that she was susceptible to dissatisfaction, too. Samuel said nothing, but nodded politely, allowing her to continue. "I remember being so happy, so fulfilled at one point... Now I just feel like my life has just stopped, while everyone around me is getting on and _doing things_."

The professor nodded again, encouragingly, with an understanding smile on his face. Delia pressed on. "I mean, I know I shouldn't be ungrateful, but I just want _more_. I want to be able to wake up and know that I am doing things. That I _can_ do things." She looked imploringly at Professor Oak, her long-term friend and former employer. The look of understanding on his face had deepened, as if he had been waiting for this confession for a long time.

"Anyway, Professor... I was wondering... Before I had my son, I had a job. And lately I've been thinking of getting a job again, just so I can feel a bit happier with myself," Delia said, but paused when Professor Oak raised his hands.

"Delia, are you asking me if I will hire you again?"

Delia nodded, and quickly continued, "Of course, I know it's incredibly forward, and I don't want you to feel-"

"Delia, it's fine," The Professor insisted, "To be honest, since Tracy left a few months ago, I've been feeling the strain an awful lot. I mean, look at this place!" He gestured to the mess around them, accidentally knocking over a stack of papers that had been balancing precariously on the edge of the armrest. He glared at the mess, and sighed, rubbing his nose again in tired exasperation. "The point is, I could use a hand around here. And if you're willing to help, then..."

Before the Pokémon expert could even finish, Delia was nodding frantically and interrupting with a loud, "Yes!" She didn't care that her enthusiasm was rather reminiscent of her son's, and that she seemed too eager. She just felt incredibly happy at the prospect of getting out of the house and earning some money.

Professor Oak settled back in his seat with a smile. "Really? Wonderful. You can start as soon as you like," He eyed her smart outfit, "Though, I must say, if you intend on doing a lot of cleaning around here, I suggest you turn up wearing something a little more casual. Or at least for the first few weeks. Until I can order you a lab coat, that is," He explained hurriedly. It seemed Delia's smile and excitement was infectious. He decided to go on and explain what her duties would be.

"At first, I'll expect you'll want to tidy up the embarrassment that is the lab," Samuel continued, his blush from earlier returning, knowing how Delia adored tidiness and abhorred disorder, "After that, I can instruct you on how to help me look after the Pokémon I keep here. At that stage, you will officially become my Aide. I don't expect you'll require much training – If you can remember much from since before Ash was born. If not, then I'll teach you again, so there's no need to worry about that just yet. We'll cross that bridge when we – I can SEE you, Muk!" Professor Oak admonished, as Muk had managed to climb onto the back of the sofa without him noticing, and was ready to engulf him. Disappointed, Muk slinked away again, somehow knowing not to test Delia. The Pokémon expert watched as he exited the room, shaking his head fondly at the creature's retreating form.

"Now and again, I may expect you to help me with some findings, and assist me on business trips all across Kanto, and wherever else I may be wanted. This won't happen all the time, but we can expect to be away at least once every six weeks." Samuel cleared his throat, impressed by Delia's enthusiasm and excited look. It was so reminiscent of Ash and his dedication to Pokémon training that he couldn't help but suppress a smile.

"Now, about your payment for all this..." The Professor took out a notepad from his lab coat's many pockets, and scribbled down a figure on the paper, handing it to Delia. "Will that be adequate?"

Delia's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. "Professor, I can't accept this!" She exclaimed, reading the figure again and again in disbelief. She glanced at the deadpan expression of the Pokémon expert. "Are you being SERIOUS?" This was more money than she had ever expected! What would she do with all of that money? Endless possibilities of holidays abroad, spa days and suchlike crossed her mind, but she ignored them. She did not want to appear greedy. This was more than enough, and more than she had ever thought she would be offered, especially as she had few qualifications, and in all honesty _would_ require training again on what to do with the Pokémon, and...

Samuel nodded cordially. "That's the going rate for Aides - at the moment. The figure has been rising considerably every year. And since you're starting work so soon, and will undoubtedly do a wonderful job, I must insist that you accept, Mrs Ketchum." He used the honorific deliberately. "Otherwise," he said, his tone turning serious, "I shall have to seek help elsewhere..."

Immediately Delia changed her tune. "No, no need for that, Professor! This is perfect." She beamed at him, her smile radiant. "I am glad to be in your employment," She extended her hand. She had not even started work, and already she felt more positive and fulfilled than she had in many, many years.

Professor Oak shook her hand with a smile.

"Wonderful, Delia," he said, eyes sparkling with genuine joy. "I am glad to have you. Now. Can you start tomorrow morning?"


End file.
